


I Thought You Were Dead

by Lil_Hal



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Takes place after Season One ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 05:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4126317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lil_Hal/pseuds/Lil_Hal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is just a drabble prompt thing I did on tumblr, thought I'd share it here. My friend chose the prompt "I thought you were dead," hence the title.</p>
<p>Wilson Fisk has just been jailed, and he's not sure how long he can take it, until someone he never thought he'd see again helps him escape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Thought You Were Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Again, this is just a very short drabble! I hope you guys enjoy. I'm currently working on updating my chapter-fic, Because I'm Needed.

_Think of the man you want to be. You sit here, and you stare at that wall._

The harsh tones of his father never left his head. Fisk didn’t know how long he had been there, sitting on the uncomfortable bed in the tiny room, restless hands on his knees, just… staring. The wall that was foreign–it had to be to him, he’d never been in jail in his life–the wall that seemed too familiar, the indentations and marks on the wall and even the paint color was uncanny. It was his wall, his painting, it was a Rabbit in a Snowstorm and he wasn’t so sure that the rabbit was going to make it out safely.

Fisk felt his eye twitch and his eyebrows furrowed even more. His back ached from him sitting up for so long, his whole body was tired but he refused to sleep. He felt as though he couldn’t, he couldn’t move from that position, couldn’t take his eyes off that wall. His lips were slightly parted in an inattentive snarl as the voice of the first person he’d ever murdered repeated over and over and over:

_Think of the man you want to be. You sit here, and you stare at that wall. Think of the man you want to be. You sit here and think of the man you want to be, you sit here–think of the man you want to be._

But the only thing he could think about wasn’t the man he wanted to be, it was the man he was, the man that fucked up somewhere and put everyone he loved in danger. His mother, Vanessa, Wesley–and Wesley was killed. He had the other two taken care of, taken to places where nobody would ever be able to threaten them again, but Fisk’s friend, assistant, his…his everything, the reason he could even function this long.

Hot, angry tears slid down his face. He hadn’t cried before, he’d wanted to but he couldn’t, but now… hell. He took a shuddering breath and anger boiled up inside him, the steaming fury that was hot air in a small, flimsy container, it was pressure and it was anger and shit he couldn’t take it, it was going to blow him to bits if he didn’t–

“SHIT!! GOD–” He got up, fast, and slammed his fist into the wall– “DAMN–” it made a heavy, hard thud and caused pain in his fists– “IT!” –walls were harder than flesh, after all.

He kept pounding the wall and no guards came to check, perhaps they all knew about his temper (hell, they probably did) and thought nothing of it, so Fisk didn’t stop, beating the sturdy wall that gave no sign of damage as he hit until his knuckles were raw and bleeding and then he hit some more. He couldn’t tell if he was screaming still or not, but his body was convulsing with raging sobs. 

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, he had to take a step back so he wouldn’t smash his knuckles into bits and he just stood there, staring at the bloody walls.

It was only a few minutes before there was a knock at the door, three steady hits paced exactly a second between each other.

Fisk hesitated, fingers twitching in the fists still formed at his side, before he took a deep breath and called out, “Its… alright, I just…” He couldn’t think of anything to say. He wrinkled his nose slightly, half tempted to lure a guard in to beat the shit out of but no, no. He’d used his rage and energy on his fists and the walls and surely they’d confine him to some place with a straightjacket so he couldn’t move and–no.

There was a period of silence, a very short moment yet long enough to make Fisk wonder if the guard had decided to take his word but then the door was being unlocked and opened and a guard slid through.

Fisk glanced at the wall as soon as he saw the uniform, and his gaze lingered on the blood drying on the white paint. “I, uh.” That was all he said.

“Sir, perhaps it would be…advantageous…for you to keep away attention; for some reason there is a severe lack of guards on duty and it would be rather unfortunate if you, somehow, escaped.”

There was a pause–

Fisk’s eyes widened and he turned to actually /look/ at the guard and it was clear he did not know how to react so he just stood there before a quiet, urgent whisper escaped him. _“Wesley?”_

The guard adjusted his glasses and gave Fisk a smile, small and smirking to the right. “At the moment, I’m Mr. Bennett, actually. And I’m the only guard on duty.”

“I… thought you were dead.”

Wesley glanced down to the ground and took off his glasses, glancing back up at Fisk. “So does everyone else. It makes everything easier this way.”

“ _I thought you were dead,_ Wesley.”

Wesley furrowed his eyebrows and smiled painfully. “I’m sorry, sir. I can make it up to you later. We need to be quick.”

“Wesley–” Fisk was cut off as Wesley moved behind him and gently ushered him along, his assistant’s voice close and soft in his ear. “Wilson, we’re going to be alright, we’re fixing this. I need you to be quiet so we can leave safely, then we can talk. I’m sorry.”

Fisk swallowed and nodded before stepping forward to pull the door fully open, walking through with Wesley behind him.

“The important thing right now is that we are going to be free and safe. I’m here to take care of you, Wilson.”


End file.
